Midnight Chat
by fueledbyglitter
Summary: James isn't up for a party on the last day of O.W.Ls. He goes for a walk to clear his head and somehow ends up on the receiving end of a Lily Evans cry-fest. ONE SHOT.


A/N: Hey guys! This is just something I had bouncing around in my head about my OTP of all OTPs. I've been swamped with schoolwork but thankfully now I'm finished and graduated! I also got into the university I wanted so yay! Anyway, for those of you who are following my other fics: I've nearly finished the next chapter of From the Ashes and should have that up in a day or two. I think I've finally gotten over that writer's block on Just The Way You Are, so chapter 9 maaay be on the way and with She Came Here With Me, I'm leaving that as a 2-shot and that's that. There are a few things in here, particularly regarding James, that are not necessarily canon but thanks to an unhealthy obsession with Jewels5's The Life and Times, they are canon to me. Bonus points if you guess what I'm talking about! x

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It was a warm, cloudless June night. The final day of O.W.L's for the fifth years, and get-togethers were revving up in the common rooms in celebration of the newfound academic freedom. The Gryffindor common room was no exception, and quite a party had already started, compliments of —but by no means commenced because of the existence of— Sirius Black's stash of Ogden's Finest.

And here, amidst all the chatting, drinking, snogging, and the general dull roar of the surroundings, James Potter sat in an armchair. It was unlike James to sit in a corner and sulk, but he really didn't feel like partying. He sat there, sipping his firewhiskey, and declined another invitation to _get lost somewhere_ with Ava Garcia, one of the fourth year girls. At that moment, he could only think of one thing.

_I could really, really use a smoke._

Yes. James Alexander Potter was a smoker. It was a recently acquired habit, picked up from Sirius, frowned upon by Remus and even worthy of an occasional eye-roll from one Peter Pettigrew. But at that moment, James didn't really care that it was a foul habit, he needed to take the edge off. Draining the last of his drink, he snuck through the crowd —carefully avoiding Ava Garcia—and climbed the stairs to the fifth year boys' dormitory, where he found Sirius... Shirtless and quite preoccupied with a fourth year by the name of Bianca Taylor.

"Evening, young ones," James chuckled as Sirius nearly fell off the bed, startled.

"Hey there, James," Bianca waved, blushing furiously as she attempted to close her shirt.

"Jesus Prongs," Sirius scowled. "Don't you knock?" James rolled his eyes.

"There are these things on your bed, Padfoot, called drapes, I don't know if you've noticed them."

Sirius eyes gleamed with impatience and annoyance, so James raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm only getting something, relax," he said, as Sirius closed the drapes to his four-poster and Bianca giggled.

James quickly opened his trunk and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak.

"Have fun you two," he called as he left the room, but didn't stick around to hear their reply. Donning the cloak, he left Gryffindor Tower in a hurry. He thought of heading down to the courtyard or the lake, but upon checking the Map for Filch, he found a lone dot, quite still beside a suit of armor in the third floor corridor. Curious, he made his way towards that spot, taking off the cloak as he approached the girl so as not to scare her.

"Evening, Evans."

She looked up. "Oh not now, Potter. Really."

That's when he noticed the tear tracks gleaming on her pale cheeks, her large green eyes red from crying and threatening to overflow.

"What's wrong?" he said, stepping a bit closer to her.

"Potter, _go away_," she said, her voice cracking a bit despite the effort.

This is the moment to point out that James Potter had quite rarely in sixteen years of his life done as he was told. Instead of making the wiser choice and walking away as the ginger ordered him to, he whipped out his wand, fashioned a handkerchief and offered it to her. She looked away, making it a point to ignore him, but after a minute or two, necessity won the battle and she accepted it, blowing her nose. Convinced she wasn't about to hex him, at least not yet, James sat beside her on the stone floor.

"What do you want, Potter," she said.

"Honestly," he replied. "I want to know why a flash flood is threatening to destroy your face."

Lily snorted. She looked at him, still unable to stop the flow of tears, but her green eyes studied him all the same. James raised an eyebrow.

"Come off it, Evans, you can tell me," he smiled his crooked, just-won-a-Quidditch-game smile and she closed her eyes for a minute as though pondering whether or not it was worth telling him.

"Oh, what the hell, it's sort of your fault anyway," she wiped her nose on the handkerchief and James finally realized what was upsetting her.

"Is this all because of what happened with Sni—er... Snape today?"

She nodded, as a fresh wave of tears made its appearance.

"That just serves me right, doesn't it?" she said, shaking her head. "There are only so many times you can defend a friendship before the other person does something you just can't forgive."

"That prat..." James said, getting a sudden urge to beat Snivellus to a bloody pulp. "I should have hexed him again."

"Yes Potter, and done what, exactly? Get yourself another detention?" Lily was now making an effort to stop crying. "You'd have only made it worse, and in any case, you did me a favor."

James was surprised by this, and he looked questioningly at Lily while she wiped the tears from her face and stopped crying for good.

"It's no secret," she sniffed. "What he wants, what they all want. Sev, Mulciber, Nott, Avery, Rosier. They want to join _him_, be Death Eaters, and honestly, I don't want to be friends with someone whose beliefs are so twisted."

"I'm glad you've finally seen the light, Evans," he said, and she smirked at him. "Do you mind?" he added, taking a cigarette from the pack. Lily shook her head and he lit it with his wand.

"Since when do you smoke?" she asked, not bothering to hide the curiosity in her voice.

"Christmas," James exhaled, attempting to make smoke rings. "It calms me."

She nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes we all need a break." They sat quietly for a while, until James finally spoke.

"I don't think I could do that," he said, looking at the small puffs of smoke in front of him.

"What? Call your so-called best friend a mudblood or try to make up an excuse for it?" Lily's voice was full of bitterness.

"Well actually," James began, taking the last drag on his cigarette. "Yeah. But that's not what I meant." Lily looked at him inquiringly.

"I could never join You-Know-Who. Everything he stands for, it's all _wrong_. That whole 'pureblood supremacy' business, it's rubbish." He put out the cigarette and vanished the butt.

Lily sighed. "The thing is, Potter, that you _are_ a pureblood. Things are different when you're a mudblood like me—"

"Don't call yourself that," James interrupted her, a sudden edge to his voice.

"Why shouldn't I? Mudblood, and proud of it!"

"Blood doesn't define a wizard, Lily. I mean, look at Mulciber. Pureblood as you can get and I don't think the bloke even knows how to read." That actually got a laugh out of the ginger.

"And look at you," he went on. "Muggleborn and top of our year… After me, of course." Lily rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," she said. "But that's only because you're a lucky bastard."

James chuckled. "Probably." They laughed.

"See, Evans? We can get along." Lily looked at him, raising one eyebrow. Then she smiled. "I suppose so. When you're not being a git or asking me out, you're not half-bad, Potter."

"You can't blame a bloke for trying," he said, flashing that winning smile again. At this, she looked away and got to her feet.

"I'm going back to the common room," she announced. "Are you coming?"

"I'll go up in a while," James replied. "I want to enjoy the view."

"Alright," she shrugged. "Suit yourself." She turned and started to walk away. After about ten feet, she stopped and looked back.

"Er… Potter?"

He looked up at her. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. You know, for listening."

"Anytime. 'Night, Lily."

"Goodnight, James."

He watched her walk away, her bright red hair glinting in the moonlight, until she turned a corner and was gone.

It was the first time she'd ever called him James.


End file.
